Chapter 13
The alarm bell blared, cutting Captain O’Riley’s morning briefing short.
Flash hadn’t even had time to lead her team through daily calisthenics when they rushed off to respond to a fire alarm at a nearby middle school.
They inspected the building before the principal caught the kid who pulled the prank.
Captain O’Riley put the fear of God into the boy.
After that, a car on fire—no thanks to the haphazard way propane was being transported.
The next event was a minor house fire, contained before it could spread beyond the kitchen, and no one sustained significant injuries.
Things quieted down for a few hours, allowing Flash to catch a shower and eat lunch. “It’s only going to get worse when the snowstorm arrives,” Nita said as they chowed down on loaded hoagie sandwiches and chips.
“Don’t remind me,” Flash grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to ask your advice about something.” Flash and Juanita Lopez had been tight since the fire academy, and Nita always had her back.
Her friend’s brows rose, a smirk crossing her lips. “I say, do it.”
Flash let out a nervous laugh. “Do what? You haven’t even heard my question yet.”
“Look, girl,” Nita drawled. “You’ve been strutting around with a silly grin and your head in the clouds, and I mean long before you got your lieutenant’s bugles. A blind cow can see how head over heels you are about Athena, and you’ve a right to be. She’s all that and more.”
“Shhhh.” Flash leaned in closer. “That’s why I need to get the perfect Valentine’s gift for her. It should be special, unique, and say ‘you’re my everything’ without being over-the-top sappy. You know? So, what do you suggest?”
“Oh, that’s all?” Nita huffed out a breath and lifted her sandwich. “I thought you were finally going to ask her to move in with you, or propose marriage, or something interesting.” She bit in.
Flash propped her arms on the table and glowered.
“How can I ask Athena to move in with me? She deserves some place classier, more elegant, and in a better part of town. I’ve looked at apartments that lie between our two workplaces, but they’re all so cookie-cutter, lacking pizazz.
I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I just need sincere, non-hokey gift ideas. ”
“Honey, does she cringe when she walks into your loft? Does she wear rubber gloves and bring her own linens?”
“No,” Flash gawked. “Of course not.”
Nita shook her head. “All right, gift ideas. First suggestion: don’t spend a month’s salary on it. She’s already got money. What she’ll love is something with sentimental value. You know you’ve left this to the last minute, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Flash sighed, dropping her chin. “But I’ve been trying to come up with something since the New Year, and then there was the lieutenant’s test and Athena’s trip to Laredo.”
“Your Christmas gift was priceless,” Nita said.
“I wish some sexy hunk would’ve taken me out to the desert at night with a blanket and picnic basket to watch the Ursid Meteor Shower.
Talk about romantic. Hey, you never told me if the two of you, you know …
” Nita blushed as she lifted a familiar gaze to Flash, their eyes meeting.
Flash suppressed the big grin that threatened to break free. “And I never will. Some moments deserve a little mystery.”
The alarm blasted as Flash popped the last bite of her hoagie into her mouth. “Engine Eight, Ambulance Eight, Squad Eight, single-car accident on South Fannin. Electrical pole and power lines down with fire hazard. Please respond.”
Flash bolted from her seat. “Come on, guys, let’s hustle! Jackson.” She scanned the bay for the tall Black leader of the rescue squad.
“Yep,” he answered, stepping into his boots and gear pants. He pulled up his suspenders. “Captain O’Riley’s out for lunch with the fire marshal.”
“I’ll direct engine and EMT,” she said, snapping her turnout coat over her shoulders. “You focus on the safe extraction of vehicle passengers. We’ll be ready to suppress.”
“Roger.”
“Waylon,” Flash called as she hopped up into the passenger seat. “Drive. I’ll call CenterPoint Energy en route to get the juice turned off.”
Waylon flipped the toggle switches, pushed the start button, and flicked the siren. “Ready to roll,” he called as Woods and Flores climbed into the back of the cab.
“Rock and roll,” Flores responded, and the big red engine sped out of the bay and into action.
Flash felt a calm assurance, though the bugles rested heavily on her shoulders.
It would only take one lapse of judgment, one moment’s hesitation, or one miscalculation for everything to go horribly wrong.
Once the driver and passenger had been loaded into the ambulance, she breathed a prayer of thanks. The tow truck arrived for the car, and a power company crew had just pulled up to handle the downed lines and pole. Houston police directed traffic.
Mounting the cab, Flash marked Engine Eight available and settled into her seat.
Nita and Al Luis raced away with lights and sirens, and their job here was done.
Chalk up another success. But a menacing voice needled the back of her mind.
Sooner or later, something’ll go wrong, and, if you don’t handle it, someone’ll die.
9:00, the same morning, Lone Star corporate headquarters building
Athena strode into CEO Amanda Kerrington’s reception area on the top floor of the Kerrington Building in the Energy Corridor, where numerous Fortune 500 companies have offices.
Everything was shiny and new in the glass tower designed to impress.
Despite the state-of-the-art architecture and technology—expensive enough to make Athena seem like a pauper—she wasn’t impressed.
Not yet anyway. She cared more about substance than glitter.
“Swanky office building,” Bach commented into her ear as he held the door for her to enter.
The art on the walls was original, some by well-known painters.
A tall, slender, palm-like Dracaena stretched high from its pot in a corner.
The older woman behind the desk looked up, peering over the top of half-moon reading glasses, her gray hair neat and her suit appropriately stylish.
“Special Agent Bouvier and Detective Bach?” she asked. At least they had gotten onto Ms. Kerrington’s calendar.
“Yes,” Athena said, relaxing into her flawless posture.
“I’ll inform the CEO that you have arrived. You’re welcome to have a seat.” She picked up a desk phone and spoke into the receiver.
Bach browsed the waiting area, studying the decor with his hands stuffed into his pants pockets, his suit coat unbuttoned. Opting for a Gabriela Hearst dress paired with stilettos and a gray cashmere coat, Athena did not sit.
She recalled what her research had turned up on the Kerringtons and Amanda in particular.
The woman earned her MBA from Harvard after graduating top of her class from Rice University.
She married a few years later but kept her maiden name and bore two heirs to inherit the business after her.
Her husband, Jack Herbst, was a respected geologist who now taught at Rice.
Amanda had an older brother who died of AIDS as a young man in the early epidemic of the 1980s.
Her younger sister wanted nothing to do with the family business, so it all fell to her after her father, Beauford Kerrington, died of heart failure six years ago.
Before that, she had worked her way up to second in charge, so it had been a smooth transition.
The Whitmore-Kerrington feud dated back to an 1800s land dispute between the two powerful cattle barons and persisted to this day. At least they gave up shooting at each other in the 1940s, as they both supported the U.S. war effort against the Axis Powers and refused to waste bullets.
“Ms. Kerrington will see you now,” said the receptionist. She rose and crossed the room to open the specially tooled mahogany door with a little gold plaque reading CEO AMANDA KERRINGTON.
“Thanks,” Bach answered casually and stepped up to escort Athena in.
Beyond the massive, sleekly curved desk, a glass-paneled wall displayed an exquisite view of Houston.
Sunshine glinted off skyscrapers while a scattering of fluffy white clouds drifted by.
The top-floor office basked in silence far above the traffic below.
It was spacious and minimalist without looking austere, a style Athena might have chosen for herself.
Amanda Kerrington rose, occupying her position of power behind the desk, with Houston stretching at her feet. “ASAC Bouvier, Detective Bach, please make yourselves comfortable.” She graciously motioned toward the soft leather-upholstered chairs opposite her.
But the CEO wasn’t alone. A tall, brawny Black man stood to her left, his holster bulge barely showing through his Italian suit coat. Mirroring him was a smart-looking redhead in professional attire that screamed “lawyer.”
“Thank you for seeing us, Ms. Kerrington,” Athena said. Once she and Bach took their seats, the other three followed.
Kerrington motioned to her left. “My executive protection agent, Mr. Ray Adebayo. Since the attack on Gulf Allied, he refuses to let me out of his sight. And the head of my legal team, Ms. Claire Buchanan. I never answer questions without her present to advise me. Now, how can I assist the joint task force?”
“You strike me as an astute woman who stays abreast of everything in the industry,” Athena opened with a compliment.
“Who is the most likely enemy or competitor to orchestrate a rather lackluster attack on Gulf Allied Chemicals? If they had exploded a bomb elsewhere in the plant, it could have created a major disaster.”